


Vigilante

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Ororo is his insane aunt, Pepper is a SHIELD agent, References to Torture, Slash, Tony is a badass vigilante, Wolverine and Loki?!, this is going to be so weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of Rhodey, Tony is found in the desert by Ororo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle this is my first time (kudos to anyone who gets that). This is my fist time here for plot.
> 
> Title is subject to change.

Title: Vigilante (working title)  
Author: cptnstag-xo-doe  
Pairing: Steve/Tony  
Warnings: slash, torture, references to rape, Pepper is a SHIELD agent, Tony is a badass vigilante, Ororo is his insane aunt, Wolverine and Loki?!, I am the goddess of weird pairings, omigod this fic is going to be sooo effing weird I can already tell  
Summary: Instead of Rhodey, Tony was found in the desert by Ororo  
~*~  
Vigilante

~PROLOGUE~

When storm clouds rumbled across the desert sky, Tony Stark thought he had to be having a pre-death hallucination. His traitor body would pick something like water, instead of something like Rhodey or Pepper or even Yinsen. If any kind of god or afterlife was real, Yinsen would make sense to send to come get him. Yinsen was the one who took care of him after every torture session, and hugged him silently when he finally broke down and cried.

That is definitely not Yinsen, he thought as a tall lady with silvery white hair and a cape ran towards him. Tony dropped to his knees, figuring if she was running to him, he might as well save his energy. The lady kneeled in front of him, speaking to him in a language he didn’t understand as her dark hands felt along his sunburnt shoulders.

“Hi,” he said lamely, his voice rough with sand and way too much abuse from his captors. She froze, and then slowly pulled his coat from around his head.

The sun immediately made his dizzy, and the last thing he heard before passing out was a shocked gasp and her murmuring, “Tony Stark.”

~ONE~

“But what if the sex isn’t good for him anymore?” Loki whined, somehow managing to cram his lean frame in between Tony’s chin and lap, his legs sprawled across Tony’s couch in his room at Xavier’s, where he stayed when he wasn’t hunting down weapons sold to terrorists by his company—by Stane Industries. Loki, as par the course, had bottled his problems up and now Tony had to deal with the fallout. Mainly, Loki whining in his ear about his frankly disturbingly sweet relationship with Wolverine of all people, and waiting for Logan to get back from ripping things up with his claws for Xavier.

It always came back to how he couldn’t possibly be good enough for Wolverine, what with him being a former villain and all. Fucking ironic, if Tony really wanted to look, which he most certainly didn’t. Loki had defected after a memorable mission (one of the first Tony had been on) a mess of a conversation that had ended with Logan and Tony in Loki’s cell with him, Loki sobbing about his actually very fucked up life—the horse alone made Tony sympathize—into Wolverine’s shoulder while Tony rubbed his back.

Much the same as he was doing now. “Look, frosty,” he said, used to his role as therapist after spending just under three years with the X-Men as their honorary mutant. “Sex is not the only thing in a relationship.” Loki looked up at him with doe eyes that he was definitely glad were on their side. “See, that, that pout alone is gorgeous and worth keeping and you—”

The alarm blared to life throughout the mansion. Loki was off his lap in a heartbeat, only taking another heartbeat to use magic to swath himself in his modified armor—sleek and black and designed by Tony Stark himself. The coat he kept, though, because of a fetish Wolverine didn’t know Tony knew he had. They were off like light, sprinting and vaulting over staircases and nearly breaking priceless antiques.

Tony met his summoned suitcase armor halfway down the last staircase to Xavier’s office, walking in with it like a typical briefcase (Who knew if Iron Man was actually needed for this?). Ororo met them at the door and neither spared a glance, trusting her to have their back if something was coming from behind. He had always trusted her after she saved him from dying after escaping the Ten Rings, and with Loki, she mother-hen-ed like nobody’s business.

“What we got?” Scott Summers was already leaning over Professor Xavier’s wheelchair, Cerebro perched on the professor’s bald head, both in full uniform.

“A cloaked ship flying above us,” Xavier said, his fingers flying across the keyboard in front of him. “And a man approaching on the ground. Strolling, like he's the only one there, though several cameras on the outside of the ship are monitering him--obviously, we’re not meant to know about the ship.”

“A fight?” Spyke was practically vibrating, the tension making some spikes stick out.

“Not if we can help it,” Xavier said firmly. “His mind is human, but enhanced—not something I’m familiar with. I don’t want to go in blind like this. Jean, Scott, go and make sure the children stay upstairs. Ororo, go greet him outside. Take Loki—” There was the familiar wrench-crack of Wolverine splitting open another back door, and then his thundering footsteps pounding down the hall barely two seconds before he reached them. “—and Logan.” Wolverine nodded his shaggy head and took off after his mate and the white haired mutant.

“This person’s looking for me.” Tony didn’t phrase it as a question.

Xavier reluctantly nodded. “You as Iron Man. That’s all I’m able to get without something booting me out. It’s like it’s been programmed into his sub-consciousness; he’s not even aware I’m trying to get anything from him.”

“I’ll go suit up,” Tony told him.

“You’re sure?” Xavier looked at him with those piercing eyes that goddamn, if this got him killed he was sure as hell going to miss. It was a damn shame the professor was pining hard for Magneto.

“Hell yeah,” Tony nodded and grinned. “Even if I took off my helmet and someone saw the resemblance to Tony Stark, I couldn’t be him—he’s been dead for three years.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks out from behing bookshelf* I know, I know--two MONTHS and this is the best I can do?  
> ...  
> Well, it's all I got. RL's a b*, isn't she?

~TWO~

  
Tony Stark before the Ten Rings was a playboy and a happy weapons maker. Tony Stark now absolutely hated him.

  
After Ororo found him, she’d hauled his sorry ass into a cave and pulled water out of nowhere, staying with him as he faded in and out of consciousness. He later learned that he’d been in there for two weeks, sometimes sleeping for days at a time, Ororo there through it all.

She’d introduced herself—when he was fully conscious—as Ororo Munroe, and that some chick who could apparently see the future said something obscure that basically was ‘ _explore the desert_.’ Bullshit, he’d thought, but there was an actual mutant who could do that. He’d met her last year. Who knew?  
She’d still had to carry him out of the desert, mostly because he couldn’t tell where he was going in the heat. After months hiding behind Xavier’s metaphorical skirts, he’d decided that since everyone thought he was dead, he might as well stay. It was too much to re-associate himself with the murderer he’d been. The Mark II was born, and his new life had begun.

Tony jerked himself back to the present as he landed on one armored knee in the foyer beside Loki, who was standing on one side of Ororo and Wolverine was on the other, all in full costume. Tony stood in the obvious place in the back; he’d learned humility and subtlety after the Ten Rings as well. Yes, _really_.

Loki suddenly hissed, leaning forward to take a closer look out the windows. “This is SHIELD’s Captain America,” he muttered. “Thor’s Avengers troop is associated with them.” He shrunk back, his shoulders hunched defensively as if his brother was standing right over him. No one asked how he knew that.

“Figures,” Wolverine muttered uninterestedly, though he stepped marginally closer to Loki, sliding his fingers over the magician’s arm before going back to crossing his arm and looking imposing. “Do we just wait for him to come up the driveway, or what?”

He had a point. The dot on the horizon wasn’t going to get any bigger for at least five minutes; a security measure Loki’d installed made it so that for anyone not registered in it as a non-threat it would take much longer to get to the front door, thus giving them time to prepare. The more of an obvious threat, the longer it would take to get to them.

“I could try something,” said Loki, suddenly intent. “I could bind myself to this _Captain_ , and hear and see what he is seeing.” Before Wolverine could protest, Loki continued. “I will stay here, though you are absolutely adorable when you worry.” Wolverine sort of _harrumph_ -ed, and Loki shimmered for a moment, before his eyes clouded over and he began to speak in a voice that was the vocal embodiment of justice, freedom, and red-white-and-blue. Captain America.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t _call_ Xavier Mansion and ask for this Iron Man,” Captain America’s low voice screamed confusion. “He’s filed as a vigilante, and the rough glimpses of his suit _do_ look awfully similar to what the Iron Monger’s trying, but if we were up front and explained the situation—”

“No, Captain,” said another voice, deep and commanding. “Stick to the plan. Bring him in using whatever story you can, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Yes, Director Fury,” Captain America said, sounding almost like a recalcitrant child. He puffed, sounding almost winded. “This driveway didn’t look that long from the gate.” The little figure, still slowly getting larger, hefted a glinting red thing higher on his shoulder. Tony brutally repressed the small child in him being a fanboy over the real-live Captain America shield.

_Iron Monger?_ Wolverine mouthed at him, cowl hiding whatever expression he was wearing. Tony shrugged.

A booming voice came out of Loki’s mouth next, that from his distinct frown had to be Thor. “A trick my brother loved using in our youth!” he thundered wistfully. Ororo wobbled from the sheer force of volume, and only the weight of the suit kept Tony from doing the same. “Do you think this enemy Xavier has a magician of his own?”

“He’s not an enemy,” Director Fury and a Russian-accented female protested lowly. The woman continued. “It’s this Iron Man we’re not sure of. The Ten Rings sold the early designs of this battlesuit to Stane—codenamed the Iron Monger—last year, though Iron Man has had this tech for a lot longer. We think he’s a Ten Rings member gone rogue, possibly guilty for his association with them and for accepting Stane’s orders for the assassination of Tony Stark. He might…”

Tony stumbled back as if Loki’d slapped him. Stane had been the reason the Ten Rings were after him. Stane was the reason he had a glorified battery in his chest. Stane. _Stane Stane Stane._

_…Stane’s orders for the assassination of Tony Stark…_

_…good job, m’boy!..._

_…Tony!..._

“Tony!”

“Anthony!”

“Stark, for God’s sake answer them!”

The concern in Wolverine’s usually gruff voice pulled Tony out of his head. He blinked trying to figure out why they looked so distorted, and realized a) he was still wearing the suit, and b) he’d apparently fallen square on his ass in the last ten seconds. How wonderful.

“Obie,” he said, his voice hoarse, and his hand going to the arc reactor. “Obie— _Stane_ was the one who ordered the strike.” Ororo’s eyes widened and Loki’s turned uncharacteristically bright. Wolverine quivered with barely restrained fury.

“I—” Whatever Ororo was going to say was interrupted by the doorbell. Tony shoved Stane to the back of his mind, climbing to his feet. He could deal with this later. Ororo huffed like she did when he’d pulled something working too hard in the suit, before she rose fluidly to her feet, going to stand at the focal point of their usual setup. Wolverine was on the left, claws peeking out. Loki moved to her right, redesigned helmet snapping into place so the only thing showing of his neck and head was his lips, framed by thin daggers hidden as pincers. Ororo had nothing in her costume to outwardly intimidate—lightning and tornados did that all on its own.

Tony went to his place behind them, red and gold gleaming, and grinned in a way board members had learned to be very afraid of. “Showtime.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you all who are still sporadically checking this story--this is your (dubious) reward.  
> And to Jenny: Yes I was still working on it, but had gotten in a bit of a slump. A bit after your review came, a lightening bolt of plot struck me, and I have a new-ish was for the story to go, with actual action instead of Tony just pretending he's dead.  
> Hint for the rest of you: Obie's going to be a bigger player than I thought.

**~THREE~**

Steve—finally, _finally_ —set his foot on the front steps, pausing to make sure it was real. Thor was almost positive that it was some sort of magic (and how weird was that? Magic and aliens existed in the new millennium) that was slowing him down—no driveway this short naturally took twenty minutes to climb. His mud streaked boot was almost comical against the pristine marble steps.

After he’d been _defrosted_ —though some scientists that SHIELD had wanted to insist he’d been brought back to life—his uniform had been destroyed, and they’d had to make him a new one. He’d tried to insist that he could wear the SHIELD uniforms, but agents—mostly Agent Coulson, who seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with him—insisted right back.

And now—two years later and just now being allowed into the modern world—he raised his hand to knock on a telepath professor’s door.

Immediately it was yanked open, displaying an overwhelming amount of steel and marble and old money. Holding the handle of the door was a strongly built African woman with silver hair, robes of gold and dark blue wrapped around an athletic frame. Behind her, like bodyguards, stood three men (at least he thought the last was a man).

On one side stood a man as tall and as burly as Steve himself, face and body covered in blue and yellow, his dark hair spiked up and—were those _claws_? The man on the left was considerably thinner, dressed in all black with a green cape, as opposed to the other man’s yellow majority. His jaw was the only visible part of his body, the cloudy eyes of his uniform and dagger-like pincers the only spots of silver on him.

The last man, standing in the back, is who caught Steve’s attention, though. A man within robot armor—because he was posed too loosely and casually to be a full robot—stood with his head cocked. He projected a bored air, like he had better things to be doing than to meet the lowly mortal. The armor itself was an intricate work of reds and golds, slick plates sliding against each other as he tilted his head to look at the man on his door step—elegant, fluid as no metal work had a right to be. It was nothing like Mr. Stane’s clunky grey design. _This_ was Iron Man.

“Captain!” The woman said smiling, jarring Steve and reminding him that there were other people here besides him and the metal marvel he’d been staring at. He blushed. “It’s an honor to meet you. SHIELD should know that they need not use such sneaky methods to ask about one of our own.”

Steve blushed darker, shock and embarrassment warring for dominance in him. Natasha swore loudly and colorfully and in several foreign languages in his ear, and Director Fury muttered something that sounded like ‘ _damn telepath_.’

He pulled on his USO tour smile, the blush still there. “Sorry, miss, but—orders, you know?” he said, doing his damnedest to sound bashful. “I take it from you opening the door you’d be willing to talk?” Ignoring the shouts from the Director and Natasha, he pulled his comm out of his ear and shoved it in his pocket. Iron Man managed to look interested without moving a single joint.

“Of course,” the lady said, still smiling, while the other two men scowled unhappily about the invasion to their home, but stepped back to allow him in anyway. Steve cautiously stepped inside, pointedly not jumping at the mammoth door slamming shut behind him. “This is Black Plague, Wolverine, and, of course, Iron Man. I am Ororo. The professor is busy at the moment, but sent us to talk.” The way she said it sent chills up Steve’s spine, and he’d no doubt that the word _fight_ would have fit just as well as _talk_. When introducing, she waved to the thin man, the burly one, and the metal man in turn. “Your orders?”

Steve bit his lip in indecision, before deciding to go with the truth. “SHIELD has…an interest in Iron Man.” Well, part of the truth, anyway.

“Interest?” Black Plague smirked like he already knew where this was going. Thor had described his brother as doing the exact same thing. Was Black Plague a sorcerer too?

Steve turned to the black-clad man. “He looks a lot like a threat we’re tracking.” He paused, wondering if it was classified information, before continuing. “Have you heard of the Iron Monger?” The man known as Wolverine snorted into one paw-like hand, confusing him in ways he was sure showed on his face.

Black Plague seemed to take pity on Steve and continued from earlier. “Xavier has been keeping track of him as well, and he makes our resident mechanic look like a regular wizard with his metal.” He snickered in a way that Steve was sure would be offensive to anyone else.

“Mechanic?!” Iron Man broke in, sounding genuinely distressed. He had a strong accent, even through the mask, and his voice was pitched low. He raised a finger to poke Black Plague in the chest, ignoring the looks. “I—” Ororo cleared her throat in a way that made the rest of them snap to attention.

“Gentlemen, if we could take this to the conference room?” she requested, somehow making it sound like an order. Steve sighed guiltily.

“Lemme guess—Iron Man’s supposed to come with you?” Wolverine looked at him, his face expressionless except for a vague threatening air. He moved his foot in a way that he could be in front of Iron Man to defend him in an instant. Steve thought the metal man could do that himself.

Steve nodded at Wolverine’s question. “One of you could come with him, if you’d let him come.” He deliberately made it sound like a choice—nothing froze people up faster than having their choice taken away from them. Surprisingly, Ororo and Iron Man seemed to be thinking about it. Black Plague looked like he’d rather face down the Red Skull blindfolded, and Wolverine grew tenser the more distressed the other man appeared. Ororo and Iron Man noticed.

“If you’d give us a moment?” Ororo asked, and Steve nodded. Iron Man waved at him as they all walked around a corner, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. Wandering over to one of the tables that seemed to serve no purpose but seemed to be in every mansion he’d ever seen, he tried to focus enough to dull the rest of his senses. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—honest, he wasn’t. It just so happened that Black Plague—someone who he was beginning to suspect was more than he let on—talked extremely loudly.

“But he cannot—simply cannot!” Black Plague burst out after a long phase of anxious murmuring. “There are several things wrong with letting him go anywhere near Thor and SHIELD!”

Iron Man spoke. “If Ororo says she can mask your aura on me from Thor—” Steve’s eyebrows rose to his hairline at that. “—then I believe her, and you should too.”

“Sta—” Wolverine started, matching Black Plague’s volume. There was a grinding noise that Steve realized after a moment was someone clearing their throat run through a voice synthesizer. “Oh, fine—Amal Shaheen. He has good reason to worry—SHIELD or not, there’s still his family to contend with if they get word he alive. You can’t go.”

“And what do you want to do?” Iron Man countered, his accent getting thicker with irritation. “Start a war with a government agency to prevent the small chance that Thor can sense your boyfriend—who is perfectly capable of defending himself—all over me even through Ororo? We have no choice; I’m going with the Captain.”

Steve tried his hardest to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. Black Plague eyed him suspiciously, so he didn’t think he succeeded. Iron Man walked right past him, though, heading for the door. The rest of them stared after him, and he suddenly stopped at the doorway, turning back to face Steve. “Let’s go, then—the Ten Rings head didn’t like waiting for his soldiers.”

Steve bristled at the Director being compared to a terrorist, but Iron Man was already out the door before he could respond.


End file.
